


Drip, Drop

by dreamyletters (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, TW: cutting, butterfly project, tw: self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/dreamyletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When everything start to fall apart, things begin to drip and drop.</p>
<p>Warning! Self-harm/Cutting</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drip, Drop

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Butterfly Project.

 

 

 

Drip, drop.

A crimson streak falls down again from the cut across Zayn's wrist. The tattoos on his arm helps hide the scars though. They're perfectly aligned along the painful reminders that marked his skin. He's sitting in a corner of the bathroom, cheeks puffy, hair messed up and eyes blood-shot. He drops the razor and holds his arm close with his knees curled right in front of him. He whimpers quietly -the light of the bathroom is his only cry for help.

A few hours later, Zayn comes out and slips into bed.

Liam doesn't hear a sound.

 

(The number of clothes with long sleeves have been increasing in Zayn's closet.)

 

 

 

♦♦♦

 

 

Drip, drop.

Another cut. Zayn used to count the number of times he did this, and he'd say, "I'll stop at the third," which turned to, "I'll stop at the tenth." But Zayn forgot to count, and now he doesn't know how many they are. The scars on his skin are swirling around his arm, like some sort of tattoo as well -only this time, without the ink. They serve as a reminder for Zayn -that he fucked up. That _he's_ fucked up. That he deserves this.

A moment later, he starts applying some shaving cream on his chin. Liam walks in, half-asleep to do his business.

They greet each other with quiet 'good mornings'. Zayn smiles.

Liam's eyes are closed.

 

("You really like sweaters don't you?" Liam says one day. Zayn shrugs. "They're comfy.")

 

 

♦♦♦

 

 

 

Drip, drop.

The faucet runs. He cut in a little too deep and the bleeding hasn't stopped. It's been probably a minute past the time it should've. Zayn was frantically washing it away. Someone might see, someone might find him -he doesn't want anyone to find him. Not now. _Not yet_. His eyes start to well up again, because as he sees more blood coming out, it reminds him of what's happened to him. He's losing everything he's ever loved and he can't seem to make it stop.

He called the engagement off.

His family's disappointed.

People hate him.

They hate him.

Hate him.

The bleeding stops. He turns off the faucet. Liam knocks on the door.

"Hey, you finished there?"

Zayn snaps his head towards the voice and he washes his face one more time.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Thing won't come out of my eye."

 

 

 

♦♦♦

 

 

 

Drip, drop.

Another cut.

He tries a few on his thighs now.

Drip, drop.

Another cut.

He can't stop, but he wants to. He loses to his urge.

Drip, drop.

Another cut.

Even the sweaters are stinging him now.

Drip, drop.

Another cut.

The door opens.

He drops the razor.

They're staring at each other. Liam's looking at him, eyes filled with questions. He was half-awake, but now, seeing Zayn like _this_ was enough to be an alarm clock blaring right in front of his face. Zayn's how he usually looks in the confinements of the four corners of this room. His cheeks are still wet though, and his wrist is bleeding. His sweater's somewhere on the floor -he's wearing just his boxers and a sweatshirt.

The silence stings the marks on his wrists.

Liam slowly approaches Zayn and he crouches down. He licks his lip -they're dry from what he's seeing at that moment. He tries to say something but the right words won't come to him. He takes a good look at Zayn again -notices the scars on the young man's thighs, his other wrist and the red-stained razor on the floor. Zayn's still bleeding though.

It drips and drops on the floor.

Liam stands up again and looks like he was about to leave, but a gentle and firm grip meets with Zayn's arm. He is led out of the bathroom and into their shared room. He is seated on Liam's bed, while the other reaches for the lights and looks around in the room for something. The man goes back to the bathroom and comes out with a bag of cotton balls, a bottle of antiseptic and a box of bandages. Zayn feels content in this silence.

Liam crouches in front of him, gently takes his hand and proceeds to rub some antiseptic on each of them. Zayn quietly hisses when he feels a sting.

"Bear with it a little, alright?"

Zayn hears Liam's voice and he feels calmer. On nights like this, he barely knows what Liam sounds like.

At that moment, the sound of Liam's voice saved him.

 

 

♦♦♦

 

 

 

 

When Liam was done, Zayn was full of bandages all over. They probably used up half of what was left in the box but that was fine. Liam sets everything aside and takes a seat next to Zayn. He's in an indian sitting position faced towards Zayn. Zayn can't even look at him but he's definitely thankful.

A moment passed, and black-haired boy's voice cracked as he spoke, "Thank you."

Liam sighs quietly. "That's not what I wanted to hear."

Zayn finally looks towards him, but doesn't look at his eyes. He's afraid that all he'll see is disappointment. He tries, "I'm sorry?"

The blonde shakes his head. "Not that either. Don't be."

The other lets out a shaky breath. "Then what?"

Liam holds his hand now. It was a soft touch -but he could feel it. It was warm, and soothing. Much better than the sharp cold blade he's used to.

"Why?"

He was hesitant for a moment -Liam would think it's stupid. So he shrugs.

The other then just sighs again. He won't push something that doesn't want to be told to him. So he just scoots closer, and hugs Zayn this time. Zayn starts crying hard. He's whimpering and groaning -stopping for a few seconds to breathe. But he's crying really hard and he's got his hands gripped tightly on the arms draped around him. Liam puts Zayn's head under his chin and they stay like that for awhile.

Zayn's still crying and he kept on repeating, "I'm so fucking stupid Liam," in between whimpers.

His best friend just rubs his back, shushing him but says nothing else.

The crying stops afterawhile but, Zayn's breath would hitch every now and then. He's calmer now though, and he felt a little better. The younger of the two had gotten a little towel to wipe his face with. They end up watching a movie that Liam had in his laptop. They cuddle in his bed with Zayn tucked in his shoulders. They're watching 'The Avengers' at 2 in the morning, and everything was at peace. Maybe close to perfect even, with Zayn slowly falling asleep in the warmth of Liam's arms, the other feeling the lids of his eyes losing the combat of staying awake. And just like that, in each others arms, they fall.

( Liam makes sure to hold Zayn's hands althrough out. His thumb would sometimes brush against the scars of Zayn's wrist and it hurts him maybe a little more than it should. )

 

 

 

♦♦♦

 

 

 

 

They never talked about why Zayn did that, or what happened before. The news already explained to Liam what was really going on. Although the tour's over -rumor is an endless pit of noise. Liam believes tidbits of them, but never believed it was anyone's fault. It wasn't Zayn, not Perrie's and not even the boys. It was society. Society choked out the remaining air left in Zayn's chest with expectations and pressure. It pressed the man's ribs and tried to crush his bones -and for a moment, it did. Luckily, Liam caught on and saved him before it was too late.

Liam then pulls out his laptop, and surfs around the net. Then, he starts searching for ways to help with people who self-harmed, specifically those who cut.

He finds 'The Butterfly Project' and smiles, and makes a quick note to tell Paul to buy him some markers or something. He's probably gonna need a lot.

 

 

♦♦♦

 

 

Zayn's brows are furrowed, as he is presented with a multitude of colorful markers on his bed. He just got back from a radio show and wasn't exactly expecting five packs of 36 colored pens on his bed. He doesn't even remember asking for any. He looks around the room, searching for a hint of Liam and finds the bathroom with lights on and a closed door. He then goes to his wardrobe, changes into something more comfortable (a shirt and his boxers) and sets himself on the carpeted floor, right at the foot of his bed. He's staring at the pens, confused but curious. Liam steps out of the shower, with only his boxers on. He smelled like soap and mint, it was soothing. Zayn smiles at him as a greeting.

Liam scrubs his head a bit more, then throws the towel somewhere around the corner of their shared room.

"Bought them for you," he said. The other looks even more confused.

"Well, Paul did. But I told him to." There's a smile this time.

Zayn shakes his head. "Why?"

Liam holds up a finger, with that smirk Zayn knows all too well. The other rolls his eyes and lets out a little chuckle.

Liam sets himself on the floor, right in front of Zayn, and he starts opening one of the packs, and asks Zayn to hold out his hand.

He starts drawing what looked like two B's and some swirls. Zayn muses it's some sort of butterfly -and it is. Although it was a little hard to see, with the tattoos on his arms and the scars far too many (and still heavily marked on his skin,) it's a butterfly nonetheless, and Liam beams at him.

"Pretty, right?"

Zayn nods, "Sure."

Liam presses the pen on Zayn's palm.

"You draw a butterfly every time you have the urge to cut."

Oh.

_Oh._

Now everything makes sense. And Zayn's a little teary now. Maybe it was the way Liam told him, or the way he looked at him, but it was definitely just something that caught his eye. Maybe it was the fact that someone still cares for him -despite the shit he's in, and has done. Someone still cares for Zayn Malik and that felt like a pretty big-ass miracle. He looks up at Liam and grins.

"Seriously you..."

The other presses his forehead on his best friend's.

"I'm here."

And that was enough.

 

 

Zayn drops the pen to the floor and lunges himself, and just lets himself fall into Liam, with the other readily holding him in his arms. They hugged and cried together, then smiling and drawing little butterflies on each other's arms that night. Liam kisses him quick, and he's surprised at first, and then he tearily kisses him back. Liam's grip on him is tighter by then, and he's planting kisses on every corner of the other man's body. He goes from his eyes, his cheeks, then his neck, and then he pulls up one of Zayn's hands, and kisses his wrists, making sure to kiss every scar he saw.

Paul will probably ask them to wash the butterflies the next morning but, it didn't matter. Next morning will come, and they'll hurdle it together this time. For the first time, Zayn couldn't wait for tomorrow, because he's sure it'll be better.

 

( Maybe getting butterfly kisses all over his scars felt better than drawing butterflies.)

 

 

 


End file.
